


Experiment Gone Wrong

by Arach



Series: 30 Day AU Challenge [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crack, Fairy Sherlock, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Magic, Sherlock has magic in this universe so it should count, Tumblr Memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arach/pseuds/Arach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which one of Sherlock's experiments takes a completely wrong turn while John's gone and John comes back to find his flatmate flying around as a fairy.</p><p>------</p><p>Written for the '30 Day AU Challenge'<br/>Day One: Fantasy AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experiment Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, I really tried to capture their characters correctly and wow this is all just crack and fluff. Hopefully, this counts as a Fantasy AU?
> 
> As always, Happy Reading!

John sighed from his spot on his favorite chair as he watched Sherlock move around in the kitchen, mumbling and playing around with the chemicals currently displayed on the counter. He really should be used to this by now, especially since Sherlock’s been putting more body parts in the freezer, but being woken up at five o’ clock in the morning because of the sound of glasses clinking together resonating through the apartment? Definitely something he didn’t want to get used to. Being deployed in a foreign country during a war made anyone a light sleeper and since sleep was such a blessing, he’d really prefer if Sherlock didn’t do any experiments so bloody early.

“John, you’re thinking too much,” Sherlock muttered loudly as he kept his eyes on his current bubbling concoction.

“How could I be thinking when my brain’s a bloody pile of goo, you prick,” John grumbled back, taking a large gulp of tea in order to keep him awake. While he desperately wanted to go back to sleep, being in Sherlock’s company was nice, even if the sun was barely up.

“The tea you’re drinking has cleared your mind, so of course your brain is functioning well enough to think. Also, go get the pig’s brain that I stored in Mrs. Hudson’s fridge.”

John choked on his tea and looked over at Sherlock, a ludicrous expression on his face. “Why the hell did you put a pig’s brain in Mrs. Hudson’s fridge?”

“More space.” Sherlock replied simply, never once looking up from what he was doing.

John sighed for the umpteenth time that day and downed the rest of his tea before setting it down. He was going to need all the energy he could get if he was going to be roped into helping Sherlock and whatever he was doing.

“Right, well, I’ll back in a minute,” John said, standing up and walking through the door. He muttered under his breath about Sherlock being an utter cock for deciding to work on some random experiment at this exact moment and for probably planning on giving Mrs. Hudson a heart attack the next morning.

He continued to be grumpy as he walked back up the stairs after quietly sneaking into Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen to get the pig’s brain. His monologue, along with his footsteps, came to a halt when the sound of test tubes being moved around mixed with Sherlock’s footsteps was gone. He looked around the room cautiously, holding onto the bag of pig’s brain tightly just in case he needed to hit someone over the head with it.

“Sherlock?” He called out, an uneasy and foreboding feeling surrounding him. No reply. John slowly walked into the kitchen and looked around, trying to see any clues as to where Sherlock disappeared to. If luck was on his side, Sherlock probably went to bed. John scanned the room again; a beaker lay broken on the floor with a strange blue-green liquid surrounding it. No, Sherlock wouldn’t have gone to bed with such a mess on the floor.

All of a sudden, John heard a small buzzing sound that got closer and closer to him. Reflexively, he spun around and caught the cause of the buzzing in his free hand.

“John! Let me go!” The thing in his hand shouted in a shrill voice. A shrill voice that oddly sounded like…

“Sherlock?” John whispered loudly and opened his hand, looking down at the small creature sitting on his palm. “What the bloody hell happened?!”

In his palm sat the one and only Sherlock Holmes. Only difference was he was smaller… and had sparkling, translucent with a hint of baby blue, wings that were a tad bit bigger than the man himself. John also noticed that he wasn’t wearing just a silk shirt and dress pants anymore. Instead, Sherlock was wearing his trenchcoat, that covered him like a long dress, and a scarf wrapped around his neck.

“As you can see, and I’m sure your deduction skills are well enough to figure things out yourself, one of my experimentations went wrong and when I drank it, I turned into a tiny creature with wings.” Sherlock explained in a drawl, crossing his arms and flying up from John’s palm, now hovering over his shoulder.

“A fairy,” John breathed out in disbelief. “You made some potion that turned you into a fairy. Well, that’s just brilliant.” John chuckled to himself, which then turned into laughter, which eventually turned into wheezing because he was laughing so much.

“Oh, shut up!” Sherlock cried out, obviously feeling a tad bit embarrassed about his predicament.

John stopped laughing and turned his head to look Sherlock in the eyes. His lips twitched up and he was holding onto his stomach once again because Sherlock’s soprano voice made the threat not at all frightening.

* * *

 

The two now sat on the couch after John had his fill of laughter, complaining that his stomach now hurt. Actually, John sat on the couch while Sherlock flew back and forth in front of it, his wings flapping rapidly behind him. The blue-tinted fairy wings flapped so fast that it began to make a small breeze that ruffled through John’s hair every time Sherlock passed in front of him.

“So, how are you going to fix this?” John asked, leaning forward on the chair to get closer to Sherlock as the fairy took to flying around his head.

“I’ll just need to make the antidote and drink it,” Sherlock answered once he stopped his ‘pacing’ and landed on top of John’s head.

John tried to look up at Sherlock, but his eyes began to hurt and all he saw was a blurry part of his trenchcoat. “There’s an antidote?” John asked doubtfully as he rubbed his eyes to get rid of the sudden headache he caused himself.

“John,” Sherlock drawled and flew off of his head, “there’s always an antidote.” With that said, Sherlock flew into the kitchen, his trenchcoat fluttering behind him like a cape.

A small smile formed on John’s lip and he shook his head in amusement, his eyes following after his tiny friend.

“Come on, John. I need your help with this one.” Sherlock’s high-pitched voice called out to him.

John laughed, he’ll never get used to hearing Sherlock’s usually husky voice transformed into that of a squealing teenage girl. He finally got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen after Sherlock shouted another threat at him.

“Sherlock, I may be a doctor, but I have no bloody clue about anything to do with chemicals,” John announced immediately when he walked to the counter where Sherlock sat.

“All you have to do is do whatever I tell you,” Sherlock said, flying up and settling onto John’s shoulder, his small hands grabbing onto it for support.

“So, just like any other day,” John mumbled and began to move around the kitchen, mixing chemicals and pouring test tubes as the instructions were said into his ear.

Thirty minutes later and they were finally done. John held up the reddish-pink concoction they made and stared at it uncertainly. The potion on the floor, the one that spilled when Sherlock drank it, had a completely different color hue to it. Shouldn’t the antidote have a similar one?

“Are you sure we brewed this correctly?” John asked; the hesitance clearly evident in his voice.

“Just one more ingredient,” Sherlock said as he flew up and over to an open cabinet in the far corner. John watched as his small figure disappeared into the darkness before reappearing with a vial that contained some kind of swirling, silver mist in it.

“What’s that?” John questioned curiously, his eyes never leaving the vial as Sherlock bit the cork to pull it off.

“Magic,” was all Sherlock said before he poured the mist into the rose-colored mixture in John’s hands. A puff of pink smoke emitted from the tube John was holding, surprising him and almost making him lose his grip on it.

Sherlock tugged onto John’s sleeve, silently telling him to bring the tube to his mouth.

“Right,” John said with a clear of his throat. He held out his other palm for Sherlock to sit comfortably on, which he did, and tipped the tube so the contents poured down Sherlock’s throat. They waited for a few minutes, letting the potion sink into Sherlock’s bloodstream, and then a cloud of smoke fogged up John’s vision. He coughed as the smoke evaporated; leaving John to see that he had an armful of Sherlock.

John let out an awkward cough and made to pull away, only to have Sherlock grip onto his hand, keeping him place. They stayed like that for a while, a million questions running through John’s head about what had just happened.

He opened his mouth to ask, “Sher-“

The sound of Mrs. Hudson screaming cut him off and his train of thought completely switched gears. Instead, he glared up at Sherlock.

“Ah yes, it seems Mrs. Hudson found the feet.” Sherlock said nonchalantly.

John opened his mouth again, this time to scold Sherlock. He quickly decided against it when he saw the mirth shining in Sherlock’s eyes. His body relaxed and a smile found a way onto his face. Questions about the sudden appearance of magic and scolding about scaring Mrs. Hudson could wait, but for now, John just wanted to stay right there in Sherlock’s arms.

“You’re a git,” he muttered loud enough for Sherlock to hear as he buried his face into the other man’s chest.

“I know,” Sherlock mumbled back with a small chuckle and held onto John tightly.

John sighed like he had been all day, except this time in content because it felt so natural and he didn’t mind one bit.


End file.
